


Weathervane

by carriecmoney



Series: Scarf Dance: HQ!ATLA AU [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pre-Avatar: The Last Airbender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carriecmoney/pseuds/carriecmoney
Summary: The destination may have been reached, but the journey is far from over. Now, Daichi and his crew have to figure out their way down this new road, no matter the bumps on the way. Short story collection for events after "Caravan".





	Weathervane

**Author's Note:**

> {A/N: I never said I was a role model. I have some empty pages in my last Caravan notebook that wouldn't stand to be left unfilled. There won't be any rhyme or reason to these oneshots, just what I feel like needs to be said. Tags, characters, and ships will be added as they get posted. We're starting off light, but if my plans work out like they should, we won't stay there all the time. Just sometimes. [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/carriecmoney) [instagram](http://www.instagram.com/carriecmoney) [tumblr](http://carriecmoney.tumblr.com) [some designs for this piece](http://twitter.com/carriecmoney/status/905611392790781953) [the song for this piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JM07F5bYRhc)}

“Do you get off on dressing me up like some doll?”

“Do you _really_ want the answer to that?” Daichi grumbled as Tooru grinned, pulling the tie of Daichi’s overwrought tunic-jacket tighter. Tooru patted his cheek, brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “I can’t help it if you look good,” he purred, smoothing down the heavily-embroidered linen on Daichi’s shoulders.

“I guess Taka’s sister knows her way around a needle,” Daichi said with a shrug. Tooru rolled his eyes.

“Yes, dear, blame the tailor, that’s always accurate.” He slid his hands down Daichi’s tight sleeves to his bare hands, taking them to pull Daichi towards the cluttered table in his attic dressing room. “Come on, let’s do something about those nails.”

“We’re going to be late,” Daichi said, sitting down at the rickety table on the tiny stool Tooru pulled out for him. “This is _your_ party. Who’s late for their own party?”

Tooru flipped his hair out of his eyes – he hadn’t tied it back yet, so it curled around his face in loose cinnamon waves, fluffing up at random angles. Daichi had managed to keep him from cutting it when they came back to the city by threatening to cut his own if he did, but it did make him look like a lion-lizard when he didn’t tame it. Daichi loved his halo, especially when it caught orange candlelight and the pale green of the city’s glowing crystal nightlights. Tooru took one of his hands in both of his, bringing Daichi's fingers up to squint at his nails. “Dear heart, your nailbeds are _awful_.” He kissed Daichi’s knuckles in passing before adjusting his grip so he could rifle through the random crap on the table, pulling out a sponge with a rough pad on one side.  He started to rub the pad over his nails, side-to-side, making Daichi’s short nails shine. “As to your question,” Tooru said to his hand, “It’s _fashionable_ to be late. People would think it odd if we showed up with everyone else.” He blew on Daichi’s fingers, nail dust puffing up. “The later you can arrive while not being rude to your hosts, the more important you seem.”

Daichi huffed. “Seems silly.”

Tooru grinned, buffing Daichi’s thumbnail. “Now you’re getting it.” He let Daichi’s hand go and snapped for the other.

Daichi gave it to him, running his index finger over his thumbnail. It felt smooth, like the inside of one of the pink conch shells they had brought back from the Chameleon Bay island. “Huh.”

Tooru hummed. “Not that scary, huh, farmhand?” Daichi tapped his bare ankle with his boot.

“Don’t you have people for this?” Daichi asked. “Doesn’t seem like it ‘fits your station’.” Tooru shrugged, focused on Daichi’s hand.

“Oh, sure, but I like being able to do things on my own if I can. You’d be surprised how many beauticians will teach you their tricks for a wink and a smile.” He smiled up at Daichi and winked. “They wiggled more than you when I did their nails, though.” Daichi rolled his eyes. Tooru tossed the sponge aside and fished out a little metal pick, dragging the entrenched dirt out from under and around Daichi’s nails, clipping off loose skin with quick twists. “I know it’s hard to get through your rough head,” Tooru said, “but presentation is important. You-”

“The way I look reflects on your dignity, I know.” Daichi smiled at Tooru’s sharp look. “I _do_ listen to you, dear. Sometimes.” Tooru huffed, crumpled tissues fluttering on the table. “I just didn’t think people would care about my _nails_.”

“People care about everything, if you let them.” He stuck his tongue out as he dug harder under one of Daichi’s nails. Daichi winced, and he eased off. “Sorry, dear heart.” Daichi shook his head, but Tooru moved to another finger anyway. “You can tell a lot about a person by their hands, after all.”

Daichi hummed. “That’s true enough.” He caught Tooru’s palm and turned it over, tracing the grooves between sword and rein callouses. “You didn’t have any of these when we met, after all.” He traced a line down to where it vanished before it got to his wrist. Kuroo had tried to teach him how to read palms, but he could never remember which was the love or the lifeline. He trailed his fingers back up to Tooru’s, circling the stump of his little finger. “Does it hurt?”

Tooru shook his head, breath hot on Daichi’s ear. “No, not really. Sometimes it aches when it’s cold.” He looked up at Tooru, much closer than he had been a bit ago. Tooru cupped the back of his head and pulled him in for a slow, light kiss, lacing their fingers together to squeeze his hand. Daichi hummed and opened to it, free hand steadying Tooru’s waist. Tooru leant in – slid into his lap, fingers in his braid, brocades and jewelry swishing together, little gasps a counterpoint. Daichi wrapped his arm tight around Tooru’s waist and held him in close, head tilted back as Tooru arched over him, mouths searching, breath the same. Tooru tucked his feet under Daichi’s legs, fully supported on his lap as he leant in more-

Daichi slapped a hand to the table as the stool slipped under him, legs shooting forward. Tooru clutched him and stomped his feet on the floor for balance, gasping into his neck as Daichi’s heart jumped from more than just the kiss. They caught their breath for a moment, Daichi supporting half their weight with his grip on the table, other arm still holding Tooru too tight. Tooru laughed, a little wheezy, and stood, keeping Daichi in his grip and helping him to his feet in the process. “My bad,” he whispered, forehead against Daichi’s jaw. Daichi patted his back.

“There, there. We just need to stop making out on furniture not meant for even one of us.” Tooru giggled, then pulled away, smiling into Daichi’s face and hands cupping his neck. Daichi swayed in place – oh, there was music. Faint, outside Tooru’s open sitting room window through the crack in the dressing room door. “Party’s started.”

Tooru hummed, rolling his thumbs into the joins of Daichi’s jaw. “Good.”

“You haven’t finished whatever you were doing with my nails,” he pointed out, lacing his fingers at the small of Tooru’s back even as his eyelids fluttered with Tooru’s face massage. Tooru chuckled.

“We’ve got time.” He kissed Daichi’s nose, both cheeks, lingered on his mouth. Daichi _really_ wanted to forget about the party altogether now and just see how many layers Tooru had between him and skin, but Tooru pulled away, reaching back to take Daichi’s hands and bring them to the front, running his thumbs across Daichi’s knuckles. “We have to make sure everyone’s jealous of me, after all,” he purred, eyes lidded.

“You and your weird powerplays.” Tooru shrugged. They let each other go so they could sit back down, Daichi righting the stool and Tooru marshaling his army of hand-beauty tools. They settled, Tooru going back to cleaning the excess skin from around his nails. Daichi listened for the party noise in the silence, the delicate flute music in the backyard and growing chatter hum. It wouldn’t be long until someone came to see what was taking Tooru so long and found Daichi in his room holding his hand. The family and the captains knew most of the story (although they left out why Hajime had stayed out of the city), but neither of them wanted the first impression Daichi made to these high society folk to be that he had slept his way to the position. Tooru’s staff didn’t talk much about family gossip to outsiders, but they had a lot of guests tonight to welcome Tooru back to the city scene and to meet his new captain. A _lot_ of guests.

“Stop thinking so loud, sweetheart,” Tooru chirped, focused on painting something clear and shiny on Daichi’s nails. “You’ll be fine.”

Daichi let out a long breath, shoulders sagging with it but the tension knotted between them staying tight. “Sorry, I just – I’m nervous.” His arm twitched to scratch his head, but Tooru held tight and frowned at him when the clear paint smeared on his knuckle. “Sorry.” Tooru sighed and wiped it off with a cotton fluff. “There’s just a lot of people here for- for us?”

Tooru stoppered the bottle of clear paint and put the brush in a cup of water with several other brushes of various sizes already soaking in it. “You’ve handled more people than this before.”

“Yeah but they weren’t here for _me_. And they’re your friends.”

“’Friends’ is a loose term.” He shook a glass bottle full of gold flecks and extracted the smallest brush Daichi had ever seen from the water cup, blotting it on the cloth runner of the table. “You’re far better than any of them, trust me. Now hold still.” He lifted Daichi’s hand to the light, tongue in his teeth as he traced gold on the very end of Daichi’s nails.

“Thanks, I guess.” He watched Tooru’s brows furrow as he applied careful, consistent gold trim over the sliver of white that hadn’t been chipped off yet. “Is this necessary?” Tooru glared at him, and Daichi swallowed a laugh. “Forget I asked.” Tooru huffed and bent back over his hand, the brush cool when it touched the edges of his skin. Daichi watched Tooru’s hair bob, leaning his side on the table and wiggling his toes in his boots. At least Tooru was letting him wear shoes he had already broken in – apparently boots would help tell people he was a ‘man of action’. He didn’t really care how he looked, but if it mattered to Tooru, he would let him dress him up however much he wanted.

Tooru finished with the first hand and switched to the other. “Blow on them, gently,” he said, voice rough. “And don’t touch anything until they’re dry.”

Daichi curled his fingers to inspect Tooru’s work as his other hand was manhandled into position. There were fine gold flecks painted on the tips of his fingernails, the Oikawa crest on his nameless finger’s nail. He bit his lip. “Marking your territory?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tooru said with a verbal nose in the air even as he stayed hunched over Daichi’s hand. Daichi chuckled, blowing on his nails as Tooru kept at his task. “If anyone tries to give you grief tonight,” he muttered, “about _anything_. I’ll rip their face off.” Daichi raised his eyebrows, but before he could open his mouth, Tooru added, “Or at least kick them out and spread nasty rumors about them.”

Daichi laughed. “Now _that_ I believe.” He patted Tooru’s head, keeping his wet nails out of hair’s way. “Not that I don’t think you could rip off their face if you wanted to, dear.”

“Nice recovery.” Tooru hadn’t put on gloves yet, and his bare fingers sliding under Daichi’s as he worked along his hand were more distracting than they should be almost a month into this… relationship? It wasn’t like he hadn’t been distracted by Tooru’s touch before then, but…

“There.” He sat up, blowing on Daichi’s nails and sending shivers sparking. “Done.” He laid Daichi’s hand flat on the table. “Now don’t touch anything.”

Daichi swallowed. “That’ll be hard.” Tooru glanced up – grinned.

“Oh yeah?” He traced Daichi’s cheekbone with a knuckle, under his chin to the other. “Did me doing your nails turn you on, dearie?”

Daichi’s eyes fluttered as he leant into Tooru’s touch. “No…” Tooru chuckled and tugged on his ear.

“You’re so cute when you lie.” He stood, hand trailing around his neck to his shoulder as he moved behind Daichi. “I have to redo your hair,” he sighed, tugging on Daichi’s braid. “You messed it all up.”

“ _You_ messed it all up.” But he didn’t fight it as Tooru pulled the tie off and finger-combed the braid loose, leaning back against Tooru’s leg with a sigh, hands still flat on the table. 

Tooru hummed, twirling his fingers in the babyhairs at Daichi’s neck. “You’re so sweet when you let me do your hair,” he mumbled, sectioning it off and twisting it in tight.

“Feels nice, s’all.” He plopped his chin on his chest so Tooru could get to the ends. “What’re you doing with yours?”

Tooru laughed. “Not much _to_ do, really. It’s not long enough to tie back in one piece and look good.” He tied off the end of Daichi’s braid and swished it against his ear. “Guess I’ll just be as-is.”

Daichi tilted his head back to look up at him, temple pressed against Tooru’s hip. “I like that headband from the road. You should wear that.”

Tooru pushed Daichi’s bangs out of his eyes. “It’s not very polite society,” he explained, smile slack. “But I guess I can wear one thing for you since you let me paint your nails.” Daichi nuzzled into his leg – he could feel at least three layers rubbing together under his forehead. Maybe they had time…

A battering ram banged on the suite door outside. “ _Tooru! Are you ready yet?_ ”

“Just a minute!” he called back to his older sister’s yell.

“ _Well hurry up! Mama and Papa are tired of making excuses for you!_ ” she snapped, feet stomping away.

Tooru sighed, hands falling to Daichi’s shoulders. “No rest for the wicked.” He knelt to kiss Daichi’s temple. “My turn for details,” he whispered to Daichi’s skin. “Stay.” He stayed, watching Tooru flit around the room, pulling on his gloves, throwing another sleeveless layer on, sliding some fancy slippers on his feet, digging out a sash to tie his hair back from his face. He flipped his hair forward to tie it at his neck, then flipped back, a little flushed form the change in direction. He grinned at Daichi, fluffing his hair up in the back. “You’re staring.”

“Yeah.” Tooru blinked at him, and he smiled. “You look good.”

Tooru wrinkled his nose even as his face turned pink. “Stop that.” He turned away to fumble with wrapping his obi around his waist, heavy silk falling every time he tried to tie it. He cursed up a storm that the crowd below would absolutely gasp at if they could hear it. Daichi chuckled and crossed to him, holding the obi against Tooru’s side with spread hands and lifted fingertips so Tooru could tie it behind him tight enough to stay. Tooru checked his nails to see if they were dry, and after pronouncing them ‘good enough’, turned in Daichi’s loose hold. “Does it look straight?”

Daichi hummed, fiddling with the bow until both sides laid flat and even. “As good as I can make it.” The heels of his boots meant he didn’t have to rise to his toes to lay a kiss on the strip of expose skin between Tooru’s collar and hairline. “You look perfect,” he whispered there. Tooru shivered.

“You’re awful.” Daichi punctuated it with a slap to Tooru’s rear, making him squeak and spin around to shove Daichi’s shoulder – adjust his clothes, a tug at his collar, a pull at his tunic hem where it had started to bunch under his belt. “Well? Are you ready to face the galloping horde?”

Daichi laughed. “As I’ll ever be.” Tooru’s eyes smiled as he tucked some hair behind Daichi’s ear. Daichi held out his arm, and Tooru laid his over it, gauzy gold gloves scraping over his bare hand. “Lead the way,” he said, gesturing Tooru forward. Tooru did, dragging Daichi out of the suite and down the stairs to the – their – party, handfast.


End file.
